PERSONS REPRESENTED. CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark. HAMLET, Son to the former, and Nephew to the pre sent King. POLONIUS, Lord Chamberlain. HORATIO, Friend to Hamlet. LAERTES, Son to Polonius. VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, OSRIC, a Courtier. Another Courtier. A Priest. MARCELLUS, Courtiers } Officers. FRANCISCO, a Soldier. REYNALDO, Servant to Polonius. FORTINBRAS, Prince of Norway. GERTRUDE, Queen of Denmark, and Mother of Hamlet. OPHELIA, Daughter of Polonius. Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, Gravediggers, Sailors, Messengers, and other Attend ants. SCENE, ELSinore. HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. ACT I. SCENE I.-Elsinore. A Platform before the Castle. FRANCISCO on his Post. Enter to him BERNARDO. WHO's there? Bernardo. Fran. Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold Yourself. Ber. Long live the king! Fran. Ber. Bernardo ? He. Fran. You come most carefully upon your hour. Ber. 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. Fran. For this relief, much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. Ber. Have you had quiet guard? Fran. Ber. Well, good night. Not a mouse stirring. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. 1 Partners. Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS. Fran. I think, I hear them.-Stand, ho! Who Ber. Welcome, Horatio; welcome, good Mar cellus. Hor. What, has this thing appear'd again tonight? Ber. I have seen nothing. Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy; Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us; With us to watch the minutes of this night; Hor. Sit down awhile; Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. Ber. Last night of all, 2 Make good or establish. When yon same star, that's westward from the pole, Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! Enter Ghost. Ber. In the same figure, like the king that's dead. Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, Horatio. Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. Hor. Most like:—it harrows3 me with fear, and wonder. Ber. It would be spoke to. Mar. Speak to it, Horatio. Hor. What art thou, that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark speak. Mar. It is offended. Ber. See! it stalks away. [Exit Ghost. Hor. Stay; speak: speak I charge thee, speak. Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer. Ber. How now, Horatio? you tremble and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you of it? Hor. Before my God, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes. Mar. Is it not like the king? 3. Conquers. |